


keep it platonic

by ashensunsets



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1980s, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fear, Insecurity, Maria and Carol are in their mid thirties, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Bigotry, Pregnancy, Road Trips, Unplanned Pregnancy, don't litter kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 09:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashensunsets/pseuds/ashensunsets
Summary: Maria and Carol take a road trip.. . ."Maria scoots her hand across the blanket, slowly, until their fingertips are touching. Carol's breathing, at once soft and smooth, comes to a sharp, ragged halt before resuming its pace. Maria gulps, her stomach sinking and rising all at once as Carol stretches her hand over her own. With a twist, their fingers are interlocked and joined in every way possible.By the time the crescent moon has fully risen, Maria's crawled underneath the blanket with Carol; they're lying on the back, staring up at the screaming cosmos with wonder in their eyes and turmoil in their hearts. But it takes only one look at Carol for Maria to know there's absolutely no doubt between either of them."





	keep it platonic

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I ran out of steam with this one so, sorry if the ending's a bit lackluster. Not too confident in this one but I'd really appreciate some feedback cause I really wanted to do something with this one. Happy readings.

It’s the third of October.  
A late summer, the after effect of September rushing in steaming gusts of hot air and kissing the leaves that have just started to fall from trees. October, which, on all years past, always meant a plethora of pumpkins and a new cabinet of spices. If this were any other year, Maria would be compiling a list of fall-themed items she wanted from the store and showing it to Carol, who insisted it was a waste of time but somehow always wound up enjoying it more than her.   
Any other year, this would be a happy time, a time free of stress before the worries of Holiday visits came to mind.   
But this isn’t any other year. And Maria is most definitely not free of stress.   
“I’m gonna be a dad”, Frank whispers. He’d gone quiet, still, after Maria’s revelation, but now, there’s a smile upon his face, and his eyes have gone mistied, like he’s returned to some childhood tale and come to realize, with startling clarity, that it was always true. “I’m gonna be a dad”, he says again, voice cracking on the last word. He swallows, chuckles, and presses his palms to his cheeks, shaking his head as tears gather in his eyes. “I’m gonna be a dad.” Then, as if something’s dawned on him, he looks up, sobers his expression, and says to her, “I, uh, well, do you-are you keeping it?”  
“Frank-”  
“Cuz if you-I get it if you don’t.” He shakes his head and puffs out his cheeks. “I know things are hard enough for you as it is and...whatever…” He reaches a hand across the table and takes Maria’s in his own, biting his lip as he tells her, “Whatever you want, I got you. And I won’t hold it against you”.  
Despite herself, Maria smiles. She squeezes his hand, then leans across the table and kisses his cheek. “I love you. You know that?”  
Frank nods and squeezes her hand back. “I love you, too, Marie.”  
She sits back down in her seat, crosses her arms over her chest, and wets her lips. “I’m keeping the baby. I been sitting on it for a week and...Imma keep it.”  
For a moment, Frank just stares at her. “Okay.” Tears leap to his eyes again. Before they can fall, he ducks his head. He sniffles, swipes the back of his hand over his eyes, then looks up again, his smile back, full force, if a bit wobbly. “Okay.”  
Maria excuses herself after that. Time for him to take it in, time for her to think this over for the millionth time. Some years back, when the world was a little less tolerant and she a little more stubborn to fly, she might’ve taken Frank up on his offer, might’ve made that walk through the crowd of protestors and just done it.  
But she’s older now. And while she’ll always love flying, Maria’d be lying if she said the thought of having a family, a real family, hasn’t been something she’s wanted her whole life.  
As she’s standing before the fridge, her palm goes to her stomach, to feel where this new life will be living for the next eight months.  
“I’m gonna be a momma”, Maria whispers, and then she’s crying, too.  
. . .  
It takes him three hours to ask her if she’s told Carol yet.  
They’re parked in front of the TV, eating Peanut Butter Captain Crunch because Maria’s out of food, when he brings it up. The words come soft, unjudging, a complete one-eighty from what they would have been if they’d had this conversation a year ago. For a moment, Maria lingers on that thought, on that fateful night together when she called out Carol’s name instead of his and her whole life came rushing to a halt.   
They broke up a little while later and went their separate ways until three months ago, eventually leading up to that morning in the back of his pickup in September. They’ve only spoken of Carol a few times since then, each becoming easier than the last but, nonetheless, still uncomfortable. Now, though, as they’re sitting on her burgundy couch and watching the Jeffersons, there’s no discomfort, no tension, no pestering, no prying questions. There’s just Frank and Maria.  
“Are you guys...together?”, he eventually asks after Maria’s been silent a moment.  
“No.” Maria sits her bowl down on the table beside her and sighs. “No, we’re just friends. And I haven’t figured out how I’m gonna tell her.”  
Frank nods, then scoops a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, the milk coating the hairs of his mustache. The sight brings a smile to Maria’s face; she turns back to the TV, distantly placing the episode as one from an earlier season, and taps her fingers against her thighs. “I just...before everything changes...I want some time with her, you know?” Something in her chest lurches, and the backs of her eyes sting. “One last normal.”  
Frank gives her a look, a rare one, the one that says she’s being uncharacteristically ridiculous. Maria ignores it. All things considered, she thinks she could do with a little ridiculous.  
“You got a plan”, he asks as the episode comes to an end and he takes their bowls to her kitchen.   
Maria sighs and props her head up in her palm. “Yeah”, she says as her eyes drift to the nearby bookshelf, where her polaroid rests amongst a handful of figurines. “Yeah, I got a plan.”  
. . .  
Maria puts the call in at six am, midway through her breakfast. As he’s going out, Frank watches her, eyes sympathetic as he waves and closes the door behind him. Minutes later, Carol barrels in, sporting a pair of bunny pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt.  
Carol clears her throat, brushes the mess that is her hair into a somewhat calm state, and scans the room as she crosses the threshold. “You said it was an emergency?”  
Maria huffs out a laugh; she reaches up and pulls her bonnet off her head, twisting and turning it within her hands as she gnaws at her lip.   
“Marie”, Carol starts, and Maria’s heart skips a beat. “Everything okay?”  
“Yeah.” Her voice comes out higher than she intends, and Carol’s face, once full of suspicion, dissolves into full-blown worry. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Before Carol can approach her, Maria turns her back to her, picks a slice of cold, sugary toast off her plate, and takes a bite.   
“You don’t look fine.” A hand lands on her shoulder, and, when she looks to her right, Carol’s standing there, watching her like she always has, like she’s the most important thing in the world. “What’s going on?”  
Her fingers are squeezing her shoulder. The nails are painted teal blue and crimson, her favorite colors. Maria stares, thinking of taking Carol’s hands in her own and painting them all the different colors of the rainbow to show her all the different ways she makes her feel.  
God, I’m turning into a sap.  
Maria tucks her bonnet into the back of her pants. She turns to face Carol, opens her mouth, and says, “I’m going on a road trip. And I want you to come with me”. No time for bullshitting. There’s an eight month clock ticking over her head, less if Carol decides she wants to bail. She hasn’t the time for theatrics or beating around the bush.  
Carol lifts an eyebrow. The concern flees, instead replaced by confusion and then mild annoyance. “A road trip”, she says, like she’s just stepped on a rat.   
Maria wills a smile to her face. “Yeah!”  
Carol purses her lips and folds her arms over her chest. “When?”  
“Uh, now?”  
“Right now?”   
She scratches the back of her head and gives a sheepish laugh. “No better time than the present, am I right?” She doesn’t allow Carol the opportunity to answer. Instead, she walks away, trekking up the stairs and making a left into her room, where her suitcase is waiting.   
“Maria, we can’t just drop everything and go on vacation.” Her eyes go wide as she turns into the room and takes in the monster of a suitcase sitting on her bed. “We have new planes to test out”, she continues on, voice going slightly panicked as if it’s just sinking in that Maria’s serious. “Y-You’ve been talking about it for weeks.” Maria tosses her bonnet into the bag, but Carol taking hold of her wrists has her pausing and meeting her eyes. “ We can’t just back out now”, Carol says slowly. “And even if we could, you know people talk, you know what this could do for us, for everything we’ve worked for.”  
Maria shakes her head, displaying way more confidence than she feels. “We’ve got more vacation/sick days wracked up than anyone else”, she refutes before ducking into her closet.   
“That’s not the point, Marie.” She plops down on Maria’s bed, pouting as she watches Maria tearing through her closet. “Where’s all this even coming from? Spontaneous road-tripping, calling off work last minute, that’s more my thing than yours.”  
Maria snorts at that because...well...she’s not wrong. Of the two of them, Maria’s easily the more responsible. But that doesn’t mean Maria hasn’t had her fair share of lapses in judgement.   
Case in point, having sex without a condom.  
“Guess I been spending too much time with you then”, Maria says, sticking her tongue out as she drops an armful of clothes into her suitcase. The worry leaps back into Carol’s eyes. She leans over to grab hold of Maria’s forearm and holds her there, cautiously watching her.   
“You say that like it’s a bad thing”, she says, though there’s no real humor in the words. She rubs a finger up and down Maria’s arm and stares at her, like she’s something abstract, something imperceptible.   
“Carol.” Maria leans into her touch and exhales, slowly. “Take a roadtrip with me.” She smiles, a thin, wavering, weak thing, and just barely refrains from reaching out for her hand. “Please.”  
Please. Before everything changes.  
She’s heard of it happening before. Her mother, her aunts, her cousins. When kids enter the picture, the world suddenly gets a lot smaller and people stop calling. Maria’s never had to worry about that before because, for all her wanting a family, she’s never had the time, never the opportunity to go through with it. But it’s her turn now, and if it’s the last thing she does, she’s gonna make her time before count.  
“Okay.” Carol rubs a hand up and down her back, soothingly. God, she could just melt into that hand. “Okay, babe. Let me grab a few things, make some calls. But I’m all yours.”  
Maria looks up from the suitcase and nods. She nods, swallows down a cry, and drags the zipper along the suitcase’s length until it closes.   
. . .  
They leave three hours later. Carol just brings a small carry-on and her Walkman, and Maria brings her Polaroid and her suitcase. And that’s it. Maria leaves a message on her voicemail, explaining that she’ll be out of town for a few days, and they both make a call to base. Hooverman’s not too pleased with their sudden departure and warns them that it’ll cost them, but they’ve already made up their minds. They hang up, gather their things, and leave, the screen door closing behind them with a definite slam.  
. . .  
They won the car at a raffle, of all things.   
Carol hadn’t wanted to enter (“cause they’re rigged, Marie, and I’d rather spend the money on a box of cookies”), but Maria talked her into it, and they walked away with a brand new Mustang.  
Well, sort of. It hadn’t been used in ten years, and it looked like it. It needed a few repairs, but, within a few months, it was riding like a dream, and they’d forgotten what life was like without a car.  
This old Mustang, Maria muses as they’re cruising down Route 61, New Orleans fading from sight. It’s seen a lot of shit.  
It was there when they first made Captains. After standing so stiff and proud during the ceremony, they drove doughnuts in an abandoned lot, shouting and hollering until the tank ran out of gas. Then they hopped on the hood of the car and just stared up at the stars, watching them twinkle so brilliantly it almost felt like the galaxy was congratulating them.   
It was there the night when Carol’s family formally disowned her. Just a couple of days before Christmas, when family had begun to fly in for the holidays. Maria only had Frank and her sister so, when Carol called her from a payphone a few miles out, she put their dinner on old and drove out to pick her up, holding her as she screamed and cried until all the hate and misery had bled out of her.  
It was there when their old house got washed away in a flood. They slept in the back seat for three weeks before they got their relief checks, and, even then, it took a few months for them to find and move into Maria’s new place. It was the first time Maria had ever been homeless, and if it weren’t for Carol and this damn Mustang, she doubts she could have gotten through it.   
It’s seen a lot of shit. And, she supposes, in the coming months, it’ll see a lot more.   
“We’re coming up on Mississippi in about an hour”, Carol murmurs from the driver’s seat. She’s got her shades on and the sleeve of her denim jacket pulled up over her arm. “We’re probably gonna have to stop and get some gas.”  
Right. That’s the thing about spontaneous road trips. They only really work if you gas up the car before you leave.  
“I think there’s one a little past the state line”, Carol continues, reaching into the glove compartment. She pulls out a pack of gummy worms and tosses them Maria’s way. “Here. You look like you could use the caffeine.”  
Maria stares down at the bag for a moment, then grabs it by its opposing sides and tugs it open. “Thanks.” She tosses a gummy into her mouth and looks over at her. “You never told me you been to Mississippi before.”  
A smirk tugs at Carol’s lips. “It’s a, uh, kind of a long story.”  
Maria raises an eyebrow. She kicks her feet up on the dashboard, places her gummies comfortably in her lap, and stares imploringly.   
Carol rolls her eyes. A four wheeler drives past them, sending her hair billowing about her hair like something soft and golden wisping through the air. She brushes a strand over her ear and smiles as she struggles to put her memories to words. “My brother went to Mississippi State for a little while”, she begins; she leans her head back against her headrest and snorts. “He was always a show-off, always wanted to prove that he was somehow better than me. Anyway, dad would get held up at the track sometime, so he’d call up Steve and drop me off on him for a week or two.”  
Maria laughs, thinking of an eight-year-old Carol on campus, wide-eyed and curious and no doubt stirring up trouble every time Steve turned his back. She passes the bag to Carol, leaning back into her seat and enjoying the hum of the engine beneath her seat.  
“He got mad at me once”, Carol says with an eye roll. “I got him in trouble with a teacher-caught him in a lie or something. He kicked me out the car and left me on some old stretch of road. I hitchhiked for a while, found the gas station, and caught a ride back to campus.”  
Maria’s lips purse. She turns over in her seat, pulling her legs to her chest, and just watches Carol for a minute. “Steve’s a dick.”  
“I know.” She slurps a gummy worm into her mouth and snickers. “Must run in the family.” Her hand goes to the radio then, tuning in and out of radio stations onto she settles on something hard and metal.   
. . .  
Later on, after they’ve filled up on gas and road snacks, they pull into a motel with half the letters out and two dangling from the sign. Carol pulls a face, but Maria just slips out of her seat, grabs her suitcase, and makes her way inwards.   
She checks for bedbugs, then, once certain that they’re clean, drops onto the bed and stares up at the peeling plaster, counting the valleys and rivers of cracks until her eyes go blurry.  
“Maria”, Carol says as she crawls into her own bed.  
Maria turns on her side and looks at her. “Yeah?”  
Carol’s quiet for a minute. Then, kicking her shoes off, she shakes her head and says, “Good night”. Then she turns her back to Maria and turns off the light.  
Maria lays there a moment, blinking softly as she stares at the outline of Carol’s body. She closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and turns her back to Carol as well. “Night.”  
. . .  
She calls Frank in the morning, and, by some stroke of luck, he’s around a phone to answer. The first minute after she says it’s her, it’s silent as she searches for the words. Then, upon finding none, she slumps against the wall, presses her palm against her forehead, and groans. “What the fuck am I doing”, she whispers, ever mindful of the security guard just a few feet away.   
“Am I supposed to know”, Frank returns as something clatters in the background. He curses, and then there’s more clattering before he’s back. “Listen, Marie, I don’t mean to be that nigga but I told you-”  
“Then don’t be that nigga”, Maria grumbles, twirling her finger within the cords of the phone. “How ‘bout some advice instead?”  
Frank snorts. In the background, she can hear the sound of a TV clicking to life and something being poured. Kinda early for breakfast, she can’t help thinking, but by then, Frank’s already talking again. “You could skip the trip altogether and just tell her like a normal person.”  
“I called you for emotional support, and I’m honestly just feeling so attacked right now.” The security guard looks up again and gives her a look. Maria narrows her eyes and turns her back to him, speaking to the wall as she murmurs, “And I’m serious, Frank. I think I might’ve jumped the gun on this one-don’t affirm that shit-and I’m thinking...maybe I should just call this whole thing off.”  
She can practically hear Frank raising an eyebrow. “Well, if you do that, she’ll definitely be suspicious-”  
“She’s already suspicious!”  
“Maria, you practically snatched her out of bed and begged her to go with you on a random ass cross-country road trip. Shit!” Something shatters, and then there’s the sound of sneakers scuffing against tile before he returns, his mouth too close to the speaker. “Listen, babe, you guys are already on the road. Why don’t you just”, he hisses, and something shatters again, “just run with it?”  
Maria frowns, all troubles fading to the background. “Should I call back?”  
“No, no, I’m fine, I just.” He huffs. Faintly, Maria can hear what sounds like clinking glass. “I got a job at Marco’s.”  
“Marco’s?” A smile creeps onto her face. “The fancy place?”  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s not a big deal. Listen, I gotta go.”  
“Frank-”  
“Call me at six, tomorrow night, kay?”  
“Yeah, okay. Hey.” A shit-eating grin slithers onto her face. Her voice sickeningly sweet, she leans closer to the speaker and says, “I’m proud of you.”  
He grumbles something, then hangs up before she can further question him. She stands there a minute, staring at the phone before shaking her head and walking back to the room.   
Carol’s in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, when she walks in. Maria nods, then crouches beside her bed in search of her shoes.   
“I’m thinking we head out for breakfast”, Carol yells from the bathroom after she spits into the sink. In the next second, she’s standing in the doorway, patting a clump of tissue against the sides of her mouth. “Then, if you’re up to it, we can make for Arkansas. How’s that sound?”  
Maria stares at her. She rises from the floor, scratches the back of her head, and makes a noise low in her throat. “Carol. I know this was kinda...kinda last minute.”  
Carol tosses the wad of tissue into a garbage can. She nods, slow and even. “Yeah. But it’s fine.” She smiles, then walks further into the room, bumping their hips as she crosses her path. “I’m having fun.”  
She gives her a sad smile. “I’d get it if you wanted to go home.”  
Carol pauses in her steps. She snatches her boots off the floor and shoves her feet into them, all the while watching Maria’s like she’s just sprouted a tail. “Marie”, she says as she starts to put her hair up. “I wanna be here.” Maria starts to say something, but she just shakes her head, smiling as she stands once more and walks over to grab her by her shoulders. “You’re my best friend. And if you wanna take an impulsive road trip, well, then I’m all yours.” She gives Maria’s shoulder a light squeeze, staring until Maria turns to meet her eye.  
Maria’s returning her gaze, but her attention’s elsewhere. It’s in the feel, the warmth, the pressure of Carol’s fingers digging into her shoulders. For but a second, her eyes slip to there and then up and back again to Carol’s eyes. Carol’s eyes, which, with the movement, have gone a bit wide with...something. She takes a step back, clears her throat, and smiles once again, but it’s different now. Tamer, she thinks. Safer.  
“Face it, Rambeau”, Carol quips, clapping her across the back. “You’re stuck with me.”  
Maria huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. “Yeah”, she says as she watches Carol retreat back into the bathroom. “I guess I am.”  
. . .  
The nearest diner is five blocks down the road and, by chance, is only serving jelly on toast and burnt eggs. It’s just Maria’s luck that she’s too nauseous for breakfast anyway, but she orders some coffee and a packet of peanuts. Carol gives her a funny look but doesn’t mention it.  
There’s a jukebox in the corner, playing “I got you babe”. Above Etta’s coarse, crooning voice, there’s the sound of a tea kettle whistling and pots clattering in the kitchen. It all makes Maria nostalgic, her childhood rushing at her like a drunken driver down a deserted backroad. It makes her think of Thanksgivings at the family house, with her sister and play cousins darting in and out of the kitchen to spy on her mother’s turkey. It makes her think of her own kid and wonder if they should be so unfortunate as to have the same relationship Maria has with her mother.   
“I don’t think this bread was done baking”, Carol mutters under her breath. Pulling her map out of her bag, she then sets it on the table, flattens it out, and begins tracing a path. “Okay”, she says as she snatches a pen from the holder before her. “So travel…”  
Maria tosses one leg over the other and sighs. “We’ve got a good eight hours we need to put in if we plan to hit Arkansas by tonight, right?”  
“Rightarooni.” Carol grabs a handful of charred eggs and tosses them into her mouth, smirking at the disgusted face Maria makes. “Accounting for traffic, bathroom breaks, and the occasional sightseeing, though, it’s probably gonna come out to ten.”  
“Mm.” Maria takes a sip of her coffee, then spreads her hands out. “All right, so which route should we take?”  
Carol sucks in her lower lip, and Maria smiles, thinking of grabbing hold of her chin and pulling her in for a kiss. Then Carol squirts some ketchup onto her eggs, and she just about rethinks how she ever managed to fall in love with her. “I was thinking we could probably just stick to 61.” She picks up her spoon and shovels the mess into her mouth, pure bliss blossoming across her face as it enters her mouth. “Mm. It carries on for a bit but-”  
“We’ll probably have to hop off tomorrow less we wanna get lost in Missouri.” Carol raises an eyebrow; Maria just gives her a cheeky grin and says, “My daddy was a truck driver”.  
Carol shakes her head, rolling her eyes before turning back to her eggs. “If that’s the case, then why am I the one doing the travel planning?”  
“You never said you didn’t want to.” She ducks when a sugar packet goes sailing over her head, giggling as the jukebox switches over to an Elvis track. “Besides, I ain’t really pick up that much. You still probably gone have to lead.”  
“Well.” Carol folds up her map, tosses the pen back in its canister, and slaps a single bill down on the table. “Lucky for you, I happen to be the best road trip partner this side of the country.”  
“Oh, yeah.” Maria drops a five down beside Carol’s and rolls her eyes. “And you leave good tips, too.”  
“Shut up.”  
They leave a little while after and start back on the road. Maria’s driving today, so she has control of the radio, which means it’s nothing but Whitney Houston, Madonna, Prince, and Phil Collins. Surprisingly, she doesn’t get much heat from Carol, but that could be because she’s too busy picking fights to really listen to what’s on.   
“No, no, no”, she says, digging through a box of salty cookies. “That’s bullshit.”  
“How is that bullshit? You not just gone sit there”, she shakes her head, a deep, rumbling laugh coming up from deep in her belly. “And tell me that Earthquake”, she turns up her nose, “was honestly better than Airport.”  
“Babe, it’s not even a contest.” She tosses some cookies into her mouth and does a quick little shoulder dance. “Airport spent a good, what, hour building up to the explosion. Excuse me, I don’t care how cool it looked, but I’ve got better things to do than listen to sixty minutes of marital problems.”  
Maria snorts. “Bitch, that’s the second one.”  
Carol pulls a face. “They made two of them?” She rolls her eyes, but Carol waves her hands and says, “Well, whatever! Hey!” Maria starts laughing, and Carol bites down a smile, propping her arm up on the window. “Look, I am a pilot, I’m not supposed to like movies where planes get into accidents.”  
“Oh, really?” Maria draws a hand to her chest and says, “So what exactly does that make me?”  
“You really want me to answer that?” Maria reaches across the center console, snatches Carol’s cookies from her hands, and tosses them out the window. “My cookies!”, Carol shouts, crawling halfway out the window.  
Maria throws her head back and cackles, and, soon enough, Carol’s joined her.   
“You witch”, Carol giggles. “Now what am I supposed to eat?”  
“I think there’s some q-tips in the glove compartment. My gummies!”  
As late morning bleeds over into early afternoon, Maria gradually finds herself relaxing. Because this is turning out way better than she thought it would. Awkward as the start may have been, things are running kind of smooth now, like this is just another day at her house instead of a potentially finalistic road trip. She knows how this is likely to end, but, for the moment at least, they’re okay.   
“All right, favorite candy bar, go”, Carol says as she shrugs on her jacket.   
“Crunch.”  
“Three Musketeers but Crunch is a close second.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “Uhhhhhh, best burgers?”  
Maria snorts. “If you say Burger King, I will stop this car.”  
“Well, then I guess I won’t say Burger King. Mm. I guess McDonald’s?”  
She shakes her head. “White Castle. McDonald’s is too greasy.” Just then, her stomach grumbles; bile rises in her throat, and she has to clench her teeth to swallow a sudden burp. “Uh”, she blinks, hard, and, keeping her eyes trained on the stretch of road ahead, says, “Favorite flight test?”  
“F-16 Fighting Falcon, summer of ‘79, easy. You?”  
Maria’s throat, once dry and scratchy, has become warm and balmy. She rubs a hand up and down her neck, suddenly cursing herself as she realizes she’s already gone through her water bottle. “Warthog, ‘82; rode like a dream.”  
“Nice. Okay, uh, cereal?”  
“Lucky Charms” Maria replies, swerving as a sudden bout of vertigo overwhelms her. She jerks the car back on track, digging her knuckles into her temple as her vision fades in and out.  
“Cocoa Puffs. Or Pebbles. All right, favorite drink.” When Maria doesn’t respond, she snorts and says, “Come on, Marie, don’t leave me hanging, favorite drink.” Maria stays quiet, so Carol opens her eyes. One take at the hazy look in her eyes and the sheen of sweat covering her has Carol sitting upright and watching her worriedly. “Marie. What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing. Nothing, I just...God.” She pulls the car to an abrupt stop; she scrambles out of her seat belt, unlocks the car, and scrambles onto the dirt road, heaving before she’s even met the ground.   
Carol’s at her side in an instant, patting her back and whispering reassuring words that she can’t hear over the sound of her vomiting. By the time she’s thrown up everything in her stomach, her arms have begun to shake and gone numb. Maria sits up, wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, and leans against Carol, who immediately wraps an arm around her and holds her upright.  
“If you hated Cocoa Puffs that much, you could have just told me”, Carol says lightly.  
“Ugh, don’t make me laugh.” Maria sighs and leans her head back against the side of the car. “Shit.” Her stomach grumbles, but nothing comes up. For a moment, she thinks about standing and crawling back into the car. But she puked all of her energy right out of her, and, right now, she just wants to sit until her head stops spinning.   
The car’s still running. If someone were to walk past, there’d be nothing to keep them from hopping in and driving off, leaving these two dumbasses stuck on the side of the road and covered in vomit for who knows how long. And God knows the last thing Maria needs is for them to run into some Children of the Corn type shit.  
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” Carol rubs circles into her back. It’s been, wow, years, actually, since Maria’s gotten drunk enough to warrant this kind of vomiting, but, for the way Carol assumes her position, it seems as if hardly any time has passed at all. “Just breathe.”  
“I’m breathing.” Maria peels her eyes open, exhales, and looks over at her. She nods. “I’m breathing.”  
Carol reaches out and presses the back of her hand against Maria’s neck. “You look like shit.”  
“Thanks.” She feels like it, too. And with the sun beating down upon their heads and the scorching sand beneath her knees, it only exacerbates the feeling. As if reading her mind, Carol stands then. She crawls in the Mustang by the window and drops her water bottle down at her side.   
“Thanks”, Maria murmurs, withholding a scoff when she sees barely any water’s been drunk. “You’re gonna have a stroke one of these days”, she gripes as she unscrews the cap.   
“Unlike some people, I prefer to drink my water at intervals and not all at once.” Carol crawls out of the car and sits back down beside her. “Are you okay?”  
She takes a few deep gulps of water, lets it wash down her throat, and sets the bottle at her feet. “I’m fine. Just...road sick.”  
“Road sick?” Maria can hear the challenge in her voice, can see her shoulders rising like they would if she were preparing for a fight. “Really?”  
“Carol, could you just drop it?” Pressing a hand against the side of the door, she then pushes herself to her feet, breathing out of her mouth to keep the nausea at bay. “Okay, we’ve been in a hot ass car all day, and I haven’t eaten anything today-”  
“You said you weren’t hungry!”  
“And I wasn’t!” She winces and wraps an arm around her middle, bending over as she struggles to catch her breath.   
Carol sighs. She wraps her arm around Maria’s back, guides her to the passenger seat, and helps her into the truck. “Maria”, she starts again, but Maria just lifts up a hand and shakes her head.   
“Carol. Please. Just take us to another motel.”  
Another motel. Another night spent in cramped quarters, awkwardly avoiding each other and the proverbial elephant in the room. Thankfully, they’ve already put in enough hours to have made it to Arkansas, so it won’t be any longer than Maria had expected. But Carol’s suspicious now, and now, any thoughts of a potentially laidback evening with her have been swept off the table. Shakily, Maria straps herself in and waits, not sure if she wants Carol to listen or further poke her for details.  
In the end, Carol slips into the driver’s seat, turns the radio on high, and drives them to the nearest motel. When they get there, Carol crawls out of her seat and starts ahead, her strides long and heavy and her hands clenched. She gets about halfway across the parking lot before she pauses, leans her head back, and sighs. Then she turns around and walks back to Maria’s side of the car, grumbling, “Do you need help?” as she narrowly avoids her eyes.  
Maria purses her lips and nods. And, slowly, with both steadily ignoring the other, they make their way out of the car and across the parking lot.  
This time, there are two people at the front desk. The woman is focused on something on a clipboard, but the man’s eyes are on them. Carol darts out to get their bags, so Maria just stands there a moment, relishing in the feel of the AC rushing over her clammy skin until Carol returns and pays for their stay.  
The man starts counting Carol’s changing, eyes narrowed and darting between the two as he says, “So you ladies...uh...separate beds or single?”  
“Huh?” When the man just continues to stare, hot red rushes up and down Carol’s neck, skittering across her cheeks like an adamant rash. “W-What? No, uh, listen, we’re just uh-”  
Maria scratches the back of her neck, inhales, and averts her gaze before waving a hand in front of Carol and plastering a smile to her face. “‘Course not”, she says sweetly. “This is my sister.”  
The man frowns. “Sister?”  
Carol sucks in her lips and nods, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I’ve got our mom’s eyes.”  
He passes Carol her change, then jerks a thumb to their room. Maria and Carol follow without another word.  
This one is larger than the last one; nicer, too. There’s even paintings hanging up over their beds, one depicting a grassy mountainside and the other a bouquet of roses. Maria huffs, crashes onto her bed, and closes her eyes, feeling all but ready to fall asleep. The funny thing is, though, now that she can fall asleep, she’s wide awake.   
Over the sound of the AC, she can hear Carol shuffling about the room, muttering under her breath about shitty carpeting and shittier artistic taste. Maria rolls her eyes, turns onto her side, and watches as Carol pulls her feet free of her socks until she notices her staring.   
“What?” She stuffs her socks into her bag and huffs, the air briefly pushing up her bangs. “I got something on my face?”  
“No, just…” Maria props her head up on her hand and sighs. “I promise I’ll tell you. Just not yet. Okay?”  
Carol’s face falls, assuming an expression that Maria really could have done without. She smiles without her eyes and walks over to crouch beside Maria, watching her like the mere act of it hurts her to her soul. “Guess I’m just used to being the one being mysterious and keeping you out of the loop.” Maria raises an eyebrow at that, but Carol shakes her head and smiles, this one much lighter than before but still very much sad. “You feeling any better?”  
“Yeah. Think I was just dehydrated.”  
Carol extends a hand and places it at the back of Maria’s head, gently running her fingers over the tightly coiled curls of her scalp. Maria’s eyelids flutter, and she presses back into the fingers, all but content to go to sleep to the feel of Carol hands in her hair. “You scared me”, Carol admits lowly. Maria looks up at her, but Carol’s eyes are elsewhere, foggy. “Thought you’d caught a bug or something.”  
The AC clicks off, the only remaining sound being their light breathing. There’s a look in Carol’s eyes, one that Maria recognizes immensely but always brushes off as nothing. Tonight, she looks deep into those eyes, those eyes the shade of a warm cup of coffee on a late fall’s morning, and she sees what she’s been feeling for the better part of a decade: she sees hope.  
The question is, hope for what?  
On impulse, Maria sits up, dislodging Carol and upsetting the moment. She shifts so that she and Carol are sitting side by side as she pulls her suitcase out from underneath the bed and digs through it. Eventually, she comes upon her Polaroid and stares at it for a moment before grabbing it and shyly looking up at Carol. Carol just eyes her oddly, so Maria smiles and taps the sides of her camera.   
“It’s not a road trip if we don’t have evidence”, she says awkwardly.   
To her surprise, Carol doesn’t offer much protest. She just scoots closer to Maria and holds still as Maria lifts the camera and points it towards them. Her posture is stiff, and, even without looking, Maria knows her smile is artificial. Years from now, she knows she’ll look at this picture and wonder just when Carol pieced it together and just be grateful that they had a few good hours together before it all went to shit.  
Click.  
. . .  
They plan to reach New Mexico by nightfall, which means damn near thirteen hours of driving. Six and a half hours behind the wheel each, no matter Carol’s protest. Maria assures her that her bug’s already run through her system. And by that, she means she took some ginger ale and Carol’s pretended to believe that it was just a bug. All and all, it’s turning out to be a fine arrangement.  
The first two hours of Carol’s shift is a bit awkward. Her lips are thin and damn near purple from how hard they’re pursed, and she keeps adjusting in her seat like she can’t get comfortable. Likewise, Maria alternates from tapping her feet, clucking her tongue, and watching Carol when she thinks she isn’t looking.   
“I was thinking we could do some sightseeing”, Maria eventually says, reclining in her seat; if she tilts her head back, she can see clear through the backseat and out the back window; if she turns to her left, it’s nothing but lazy clouds streaking across clear, blue skies; if she turns to her right, it’s rock formations and the occasional rock quarry. She’s never been this far out from Louisiana (actually, hasn’t ever left New Orleans), so this, in and of itself, is a sort of sightseeing. But they’ve been cramped in this car for going on three days now. She’d kinda like to see something different, something new.   
“We could go hiking”, Carol offers, flicking her eyes to Maria. Then, smirking, she continues with, “Probably not dressed for it, though”.  
Maria rolls her eyes, but she’s grateful that the tension between them seems to be easing. “I told you to pack heavier.”  
“Well, excuse me, I didn’t know where we were going.” The car rolls over a sharp lump, and both of their heads go slamming into the roof. “For fuck’s sake”, Carol mutters, reaching a hand up to pat her head.  
“Want me to kiss it better?”   
“Do I look like a frog to you?”  
“Only on Mondays.”  
Carol snorts and looks at Maria. What little tension remained quickly drains away as she watches Maria, easy-eyed and soft-smiled. Maria watches her back, feeling the all-too familiar warmth blossom in her stomach.  
“I’m glad you’re feeling better”, Carol eventually says, biting her lower lip.   
“Yeah, me, too. I-watch the road!”  
Carol flicks her eyes forward, cursing as she just barely stops the car from swerving off the road. They sit there, breathing heavily and just staring ahead until a low giggle emerges from Maria’s chest. Carol looks to her, attempting to maintain a solemn expression until it slips, and, she, too dissolves into a fit of giggles.   
It’s been a while, Maria’s quick to realize, since we’ve been like this. Silly; carefree; spontaneous. Even before Frank entered the picture, before her sister started warning her about people getting the wrong idea about her and Carol, it’d been a while since they could just be themselves. For a moment, Maria wonders what changed, but she already knows. They got busy, too consumed with their professional lives to really have much personal ones.   
It’s not like how they used to be. Not like those early days in the force, when all they had was each other and their wits to survive on a base where “comrade” and “enemy” were often one and the same. Somewhere along the way, things got...lost, forgotten, even if they never truly left each other.  
In a way, Maria supposes, getting pregnant might be a sort of blessing in surprise. An awakening, a resurgence of sorts.  
“Want some music”, Carol asks smugly, waving a tape between her fingers.   
Maria smiles. “How about some Styx?”  
. . .  
They pull into New Mexico a little after four o’clock and keep on driving until they come upon the White Sands National Monument. Carol’s asleep in the passenger’s seat, curled up underneath a throw blanket as Maria pulls the car to a stop on the side of the road.  
It’s late enough that the sky is a deep shade of blue but early enough for the final flakes of day to still be visible. Maria clenches her hands around the steering wheel and just stares, stares until she can will her fingers still long enough for her to unbuckle her belt.   
“Carol”, she says, quieter than need be. She reaches across the console and gives her shoulder a light shake. Carol grumbles, and her eyes blink open. “We’re here.” She crawls out without further explanation, leaving the door open as she reaches into the backseat and snags hold of her suitcase. Then, she stands, squinting as the whipping winds toss sand in her face, and stares out at the vast, overwhelming white space surrounding her.  
Carol emerges beside her, and Maria starts forward, swallowing the emotion threatening to burst from her throat.  
It’s a bowl. A giant, towering, all-encompassing goal. The darker it gets, the more it fits because no matter where Maria looks, it feels as if she’s in the same place. But at the same time, it feels as if she’s stumbling into an entirely different place.   
Magic, Maria thinks, like she hasn’t thought since she was a kid and still believed in things like fairies and fairness in the world. She drops to her knees, pulls a beach blanket out from her suitcase, and sits down, staring and marvelling at all the little, white dots she sees above her. Even back home, where it’s countryside and not much pollution to dilute the sky, she’s never seen so many.   
As if she’s thinking the same thing, Carol breathes and whispers, “It’s like being on another planet” as she lowers onto the blanket beside her. She sounds starstruck, but, then again, Maria’s not really surprised. Maria’s always wanted to fly, but Carol? Carol’s got stars in her eyes and galaxies in her palms, always has. Maria might not know what she’s thinking, but she knows what she’s feeling.  
Maria scoots her hand across the blanket, slowly, until their fingertips are touching. Carol’s breathing, at once soft and smooth, comes to a sharp, ragged halt before resuming its pace. Maria gulps, her stomach sinking and rising all at once as Carol stretches her hand over her own. With a twist, their fingers are interlocked and joined in every way possible.   
By the time the crescent moon has fully risen, Maria’s crawled underneath the blanket with Carol; they’re lying on the back, staring up at the screaming cosmos with wonder in their eyes and turmoil in their hearts. But it takes only one look at Carol for Maria to know there’s absolutely no doubt between either of them.   
Carol turns to look at Maria, eyes darting about Maria’s face like she’s cataloguing it, like she’s savoring every expression, every movement, every twitch. Her lips part, and, piercing the quiet of the desert like a pin through a balloon, she says, “I never wanna forget how beautiful you are”. With a courage Maria’s never quite seen, Carol lifts her hand and presses it to the side of Maria’s face. She flexes her fingers, her pinky going to rest against Maria’s lip, and breathes, her entire upper body lifting like she’s been pumped full of air.   
“Carol”, Maria whispers, and, just like that, she’s in a different place, a different time. It’s after they moved off base, when neither of them could cook and they lived on boxed macaroni, Ramen, and gas station coffee. The smaller apartment, the one with just the guest room and the main room. That one night, when Carol came in from the living room and slipped beneath the covers. As she is now, she hadn’t pushed her away, had actually welcomed her with heated kisses and desperate hands and frenzied eyes. They never went beyond kissing, but here, lying beneath the stars, coiled around each other so tightly they may as well be a single strand of yarn, Maria looks at Carol and thinks that maybe, this time, they could.  
“I’m pregnant”, Maria says.   
Carol cups the back of Maria’s neck and blinks. “I know.” Maria’s eyes go wide, and Carol just leans in closer, rolling over so that she’s on top of her. “Well, I didn’t know for sure. But I guessed.” She leans closer, close enough to press their foreheads together, and dips her free hand so that it, too, can entangle with Maria’s. “Babe. I’m not going anyway.”  
A lump rises in Maria’s throat. The feel of Carol’s hands resting against her shoulders has the lump dissolving; she looks over at Carol, and Carol looks back at her. Maria squeezes her hand and scoots closer to her.  
A little while later, she falls asleep, curled up into Carol’s side. And maybe it’s a part of her dream, or maybe it’s reality, but she could swear she felt a pair of chapped lips pressing against her forehead.  
. . .  
As luck would have it, the Mustang winds up getting towed. They spend an hour walking to the nearest towing office and then another two filing paperwork to get it released. After that, they stop at a Dairy Queen and camp out there for an hour, gathering themselves. Maria orders a chocolate shake, Carol orders a strawberry, and they stretch their map out on the table before them, staring until they both eventually decide on Las Vegas.  
“You always wanted to see Paris”, Carol muses quietly, fondness creeping into her eyes.   
Maria smiles into her glass and takes a long slurp of milkshake. “You make me sound like a sap.”  
“You are a sap.” She snorts, spins her straw about her glass, and taps a finger against the table. “Okay, so we only need to put in four hours, then we can fuck around for the day unless you’re up for driving to Cali?”  
Maria thinks on it for a minute, then says, “Let’s stick to Vegas for the day. I wanna make it last”.  
Carol’s eyes dart up from her map. She rubs a finger along the bridge of her nose, blinks, and then says, “Okay”.  
They set out a little while later, stopping at a gas station a few miles down to stock up on snacks and drinks again. Then it’s nothing but the open road, cornfields, and hay bales. Carol’s playing Jimmi Hendrix, and Maria’s snapping pictures of the passing cows.   
“Sooooo…”  
“Sooooo…”  
Carol licks her lips and wipes a hand over her face. “You’re pregnant.”  
Maria leans her head back and closes her eyes. She cranks back the handle to the window, letting the balmy, Arizona air blow in her face. “I’m pregnant.”  
“...Frank’s?”  
“Yeah.”  
Carol goes quiet for a minute. Then, with a voice that’s noticeably more high-pitched than before, she says, “He’s gonna spoil the hell out of that kid”.  
Maria peels one eye open, then the other. Carol’s hair is blocking the right side of her face, but there’s something in the way she sits, in the way her posture’s gone stiff and tight, that makes it clear something’s changed in her.   
“It was a one-off”, Maria says softly, just refraining from reaching over the console to take hold of her hand. “We both needed to let off steam and...it just happened. But we’re not-we’re not together.”  
“Right.” Carol’s voice is airy, and her knuckles have gone white on the wheel. At Maria’s admission, the color begins to return, and she casts her a brief look with eyes full of hope before turning away once more. “Right. Uh. Sorry. Have you guys talked about how you’re gonna do this?”  
“Not really. I only just told him.” She wraps her arms around herself, sinks in her seat so that her denim jacket better envelops her, and takes in a deep breath. “Honestly. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”  
She’s pregnant. In a few months’ time, she’s gonna be a mother, gonna be looking into daycares and vaccines and parenting techniques. There’s a new life within her, one that’ll grow and grow until it vacates her body and, eventually, her home. An hour in the back of a Ford and her life’s gone careening down an entirely different path.  
“One day”, she recalls her mother saying, furious after Maria came home from a fight with the Rushford Twins, “You’re gonna have a daughter, and you’re gonna regret all the shit you’ve put me through”.  
“Karma”, her grandmother called it afterwards. “You get what you give, and, honey, you ain’t givin’ it good.”   
At the time, Maria hadn’t given it much thought. Because the Rushford girls were assholes and whether or not she was somebody’s daughter had nothing to do with the fact. Now, though, she’s having a child of her own, and she’s scared to death of them being exactly like her.  
They continue on for a while, before Carol mutters something under her breath and pulls the car over.   
They’re in a small town now, rural, secluded, but still better than the endless fields of corn and wheat they’d been driving through.  
Maria looks up from where she’s staring out the window and over to her.  
Carol’s turned in her seat, her feet tucked underneath. She brushes a lock of golden hair behind her ear and sniffs. When she looks up at Maria, she does so with eyes so full of worry and hesitation, the pit in her stomach all but fills itself with something warm and flowing.  
“Are you okay”, Carol starts, blinking her big, brown eyes at her. “I mean...you’re gonna be a mom, Marie. And we’re going to Vegas.”  
“Would you prefer Phoenix?”  
“I’m serious.” She brushes her hair out of her face and sighs. Her hands come together, and her eyelids flutter as she considers Maria. “I’m all yours, I said it, and I meant it. But talk to me, babe.” Maria turns away, and Carol scoots closer, crawling to sit on the console. Her voice lowers as she says, “You’ve never even left Louisiana, and now you wanna go on a cross-country road trip.” Maria remains quiet; she wraps her jacket tighter around her and stares stubbornly out the window at the massive water tower a few miles down the road.   
“Frank and me, we’re gonna have your back throughout all of this. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your place right now, but I can tell you that I’m-we’re gonna be here for you. Marie. Please.” She lifts a hand and presses it to the side of Maria’s cheek until she turns to look at her. “Come on”, Carol pleads, each letter more wobbly than the last. “It’s me.”  
The way they’re sitting, it’s got Maria’s heart set to a fast pace. Carol’s leaned towards her, with an inch or two over her; she’s staring at her like she had that night in their old apartment, and, if Maria were to crane her neck and look into the rearview mirror, she knows she’d find that same awestruck, mesmerized look in her own eyes.  
“I was worried, at first. That you’d leave. But now, I just...I don’t know. I want it, I do.” Her hand goes to her abdomen, and she sighs. “I do. I just can’t help feeling like-like that feeling you get before you graduate or a big move, you know?”  
It’s not something she can put into words. Because Frank’s coming with and Carol’s coming with. And while she may just have to consider retiring, she knows that flying, in some way or another is coming with.  
So why does she feel so much like something’s getting left behind?  
“In a way, I guess it kind of is a big move”, Carol offers apprehensively. “Kinda like the next stage in your life.”  
Maria shakes her head, blinks back tears, and looks up at her. “It’s different.”  
Carol’s face falls. She opens her arms, and Maria crawls between them, sniffling as a steady stream of saltwater coursing down her cheeks.   
There aren’t many moments like this, not in all the time that they’ve known each other. They’re both hardasses, a product of both their childhood and their time in the Air Force. There was never time for hugs, for pep talks, for little more than shared longing glances, the briefest touch of fingers, an extra danish from lunch slipped beneath a pillowcase. Because regardless of what they felt for each other (whatever it was), it could never been shown. Not without casting doubt upon themselves and reducing their already slim chances at being taken seriously.  
It got easier with time, when their comrades eventually stopped placing their expectations for fifty percent of the population on two women, but by then, they’d already been conditioned. Only, as the time passed, Maria grew to cherish these little moments more and more, lingering for as long as platonically possible. And though it’s always remained an unspoken thing between them, she knows Carol’s yearned for them just as much.   
“You’re gonna be great”, Carol whispers into her ear, squeezing her like she wants to imprint the words into her very skin. “In every way that you are, you’re gonna be great.”  
Great at what, Maria doesn’t know. She doesn’t ask Carol to clarify. She just presses closer, inhales, and holds on for as long as a friend should.  
. . .  
It’s a little after two when they pull into Vegas. Vegas, which, from how the world tells it, would make you believe it’s nothing but lights and money and good times. In actuality, it’s a small city sitting in the ass-end of a desert that, by all means, should be the setting to a horror film.  
Luckily enough, there’s still some daylight while they’re driving through, and they reach the strip just in time to see the sun beginning to set.  
Maria can’t help it. She rolls down her window, crawls out, and just stares.   
“Baby, I think we made it”, she says, a big grin spreading across her face.  
From within the car, Carol snorts and shouts back, “What, like we hadn’t already?”  
Maria rolls her eyes and drops her arms onto the roof of the car, watching, with increasingly wider eyes, the unfolding strip of the city.   
They don’t go to any casinos. Carol’s dad had a gambling problem, blew through her mother’s funds until she got fed up and just left one day, left Carol and Steve alone with a man that had no business being a father. It’s been years since Carol told her that, years since that drunken confession in the back of Pancho’s on a lazy Saturday morning, but Maria remembers it all the same, just like Carol remembers all of her confessions.   
The things they know about each other but refuse to talk about; they could be an epic.   
Anyway.  
They wind up settling on the Aladdin Hotel, sneaking in because it’s under construction and the last thing either of them needs is to get arrested. It’s easy enough. The guys on guard are too invested in a heated discussion about whether Elvis or John Lennon was a bigger icon (“Get bent, Danvers, it’s obviously Lennon”), so it doesn’t take much to scurry past them and into the auditorium.  
And wow.   
Maria’s never been to a theater before. Not unless you count the movies and even then, they were mostly drive-ins haphazardly set up along backroads before the owner got slapped with a cease and desist by the state.   
But this isn’t even a theater. This is like a stage for all the greats to gather, one singular, massive, branching stage with thousands upon thousands of seats stretching out before them, all for them. It’s like nothing Maria’s ever experienced before, not even flying because then, at least she’s looking down on the greatness. Here, she’s looking up at it and wondering just what she did to get here.   
“I’ve never been in a place this big before.” The words stumble past her lips, jumping free and plunging into reality like a swimmer into an inviting pool of water. The back of a hand presses against hers, and she goes quiet, taking in the auditorium before she starts towards the stage.  
“I saw a Rolling Stones concert here”, Carol murmurs as she crawls onto the stage. She lowers a hand and pulls her up beside her. “Me and a friend from grammar school, Lonnie or Loraine or something, we just hopped on a train and.” She makes a vague gesture with her hand, then shoves her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt.   
Maria takes a seat, one leg dangling off the stage and the other tucked towards her pelvis. When she breathes, it’s like someone’s taken a microphone to her lungs and turned it on high because she could swear it’s echoing throughout the auditorium. Carol sits besides her, and she knows there’s something special about this place because she smells just like clementines on a fresh, summer day and the feel of her arm pressed against her is like something she’s only ever felt in her dreams, like walking on stardust, like breathing in the galaxy and letting out sun molecules.  
“Wow”, she exhales. Her hands are shaking, and her face is wet. When did that happen?  
The lights are flickered on. Soft, soothing blues and reds and pinks, dotting the rows like someone from up on high’s turned on an array multichromatic spotlights. If Maria outstretches a hand, it’d be cloaked in rainbows, the colors and hues embedded so deep into the skin they’d never wash out.  
“It’s like standing on top of the world”, Carol whispers.  
They’re holding hands again, close like they’re not supposed to be, close like they never talk about, close like they’ve always wanted but have been too afraid to seek out.   
At some point, Maria doesn’t know when, enraptured as she is by all the colors and the size and Carol’s hand wrapped around hers, but Carol pulls out her walkman. She presses one speaker beside her ear and passes the other to Maria. Maria waits a second and then AC/DC is oozing into her ears, all jagged and rugged and electric, just the way she likes.  
She leans onto her back, and Carol does the same. As she looks up at the colorful spotlights, “You Shook Me All Night” continues to play. All the while, Carol’s lying beside her, blinking softly as she stares right on back at Maria.  
“The earth’s quaking”, Carol whispers, and Maria couldn’t prove her wrong if she tried.  
. . .  
She calls Frank later that night in their motel room, lying across her stomach as she updates him on her progress. Carol’s sitting in the bed opposite of her, headphones on as she applies a new coating of nail polish to her toes. Maria looks down at her own nails and frowns, silently deciding to pick up a new bottle before they head back home.   
“Vegas, huh”, Frank says from his end of the line. “Y’all get married yet?” Maria winces and goes quiet. Frank must sense this because in the next, he’s murmuring, “Sorry”.  
“It’s fine”, she’s quick to deflect. “It’s not like I actually...anyway.” She shakes her head, using her free hand to slip her bonnet over her head, and rolls over onto her side so that her back is to Carol. “We’re making for Cali tomorrow.”  
“Sounds exciting.”  
Her lips twitch with fondness. “Yeah.” She twirls her finger in the cord of the phone, bites at a hangnail, and says, “Frank?”  
“Yeah?”  
“...I think we’re gonna be good parents.”  
Now, Frank’s the one that’s silent. When he speaks again, though, his voice is light and soft, familiar in the way that lets her know he isn’t just bullshitting her. “Yeah, me, too.”  
She drops a hand onto her chest and closes her eyes. “Should we...move in together?”  
Frank chuckles, and the sound has Maria’s chest unwinding like a shoelace that’s been pulled free of its knot. “Babe. I think for everyone’s sake, we’d better just stay as we are. It’s a good arrangement.”  
“Yeah.” Frank on one end of the road, Maria on the other. Maybe they’ll half it, with Maria taking the baby for the first half of the week and Frank for the second. Or maybe every other week. Either way, they won’t be a conventional family. They may be on good terms now, but that’s only because they aren’t living together. She’s never had much luck in the roommate department, be it by boyfriend or dorm mate. She’s just never seemed to get along with them, no matter how good the relationship was.  
Well. Everyone except Carol.  
Carol, who, just a few hours ago, said she was still open to Maria’s offer to playing House again.  
So, yeah. Not your conventional family.   
“Don’t think too much on it”, Frank advises her when she’s been too quiet for too long. “We’ve got a good eight months to figure this all out.”  
“Eight months.” She drops an arm over her face and sighs. “Why does that suddenly seem so short?”  
Frank doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he changes to conversation to baby names (“It’s not too early, right?”, “No, babe; what have you thought of?”), and, for that, Maria’s grateful. They stick to that for a while, coming up with godawful names that they have no intention of ever returning to, until they bid each other goodnight and hang up.   
“I’m getting a coke”, Carol says some while later. “You want one?”  
Maria pulls a pillow over her chest and squeezes it. Her eyes are still closed when she says, “No”.  
Carol lingers where she is before the sound of a door closing suddenly fills the air, succeeded by approaching footsteps and the feel of the bed sinking beside her.   
“Wanna talk about it?”  
“Not really.”  
The bed shifts again, and then there’s a body lying beside her and a hand slipping into her own. “Wanna talk about this then?”, Carol asks with a suggestive squeeze of her hand.   
Maria keeps her eyes close. “I always thought the fun was in not talking about it”, she quips.  
“Are you having fun?”  
Maria hums. She opens her eyes, turns over, and watches her, a sad, fond smile forming upon her lips. “No, not really.”  
Carol reaches a hand out to grab hold of her face. She traces a thumb along Maria’s jawline, eyes dark and intense as she feels her. “I always hoped, you know.” She drags her thumb up to Maria’s lip and presses down, softly. “Too scared to ever act on it but I always hoped.”  
“Yeah, same here.” She looks over at Carol, in her holey, white t-shirt, with her hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and gives her a watery smile. “Same here.”  
They’re quiet for a while then. Just lying there, Carol’s Walkman faintly playing a Sam Cooke song. Every once in a while, a car will drive by, illuminating the maroon curtains covering the windows and basking the room in a soft yellow light. The AC’s out, but Carol cracked open the window, so the smell of moist, evening air is creeping in, washing over them both like it wants to cover them until its scent is all that remains.  
“If anyone ever found out”, Maria eventually says, and neither continues, but they both know what she means. Even if their town was okay with it, the base wouldn’t be. Not when they already expect so much of them, not when workplace romances are strictly prohibited, no matter the gender.   
“No one can find out”, Carol finishes; her voice is nonchalant when she says it, like she’s talking about where they should stop for breakfast in the morning and not about the fact that their love for each other will never outmatch the world’s hate for them.  
“Frank wanted to talk baby names.” Different circumstances, different life, the thought might have brought Maria a great joy. And in a way, it does. But along with it comes the knowledge that with that baby comes a whole new life, one that may just make this road trip the conclusion of the life she’d grown to take for granted.  
“That’s good”, Carol returns, voice thick with emotion. “Any you like?”  
“Monique if it’s a girl, Nicolas if it’s a boy; Frankie for either.” She blinks, and a tear goes sliding down her cheek. “I don’t know.”  
“You’ve got time.” And with that, Carol reaches back, pulls on the string of the bedside lamp, and drenches the room in darkness. They both exhale deeply and turn onto their side, staring at the afterimages like it’s all they’ll ever have left of each other.   
“Nobody can find out”, Maria says again, and they fall asleep like that, lying in the dark, together, holding hands because that’s not something that friends do but in the cool, cloak of the night, sometimes, they do.  
. . .  
They leave early and make it to L.A. just before noon. They pose at the Walk of Fame, the Hollywood sign, the Theme Building, Dodger Stadium, each taking turns behind and in front of Maria’s polaroid. They’ve been on their feet for a few hours when they eventually take a right and pause at the Santa Monica pier, taking off their shoes and tying their jackets around their waists to stare out at the sparkling, blue water before them.   
“End of the line”, Maria murmurs, and Carol whips her head around to look at her. Maria shrugs, hands folded in her lap, and smiles, the edges of her lips just barely pointed up. “Don’t think I have it in me to do the whole country.”  
I can’t do the full trip. Not if, when we go home, this all just becomes a memory.  
“Well”, Carol says on a sigh. “It was...fun while it lasted.”   
“Yeah. I mean.” Maria laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think we’ve ever done anything like this.”  
Carol snorts. “Never? What about, uh, about that time in ‘76? That trip to Tulane?”  
“The one where they wouldn’t let us fly”, she drawls, but there’s a smile creeping onto her face. Her shoulders bounce as a laugh rumbles through her chest. “They wouldn’t even let us talk to the kids, for fuck’s sake.”  
“Yeah and they wondered why we snuck off afterwards.”  
A giant wave washes up them, splashing them with lukewarm sprinkles of water. Maria tilts her head back and lets it crash into her, just listening to the sound of water all around her and Carol reminiscing beside her.   
“Your hardhead ass”, Maria retorts, stretching her arms out up above her. “I had to do 300 pushups, every day before breakfast for two weeks, because of that.”  
“Oh, yeah.” Carol rolls her eyes. “Because I held you against your will and made you do it, was that it?”  
She turns her head to her and smiles. “Nah. But you was real convincing.”   
Quiet, again. Longer, straining like a rubber band that’s been snapped one too many times. Maria sits there, swimming in it, drowning in it, until the words that’ve, for years, been on the tip of her tongue finally leap free. “There doesn’t have to be an end.” She’s staring straight ahead, eyes on a ship that’s coming in, but she can still see Carol going tense at her side. “It’s a baby, not Armaggeddon.”  
“Maria.” The name comes out soft, if a bit impatient. She stares down at the wooden planks beneath them, where her hand and Maria’s sit just an inch apart. “I’m moving in with you; you’re having a kid; if we start this.” She cuts herself off, shakes her head, and looks up at Maria, her cheeks bright pink from exertion. “I’m telling you right now, I will not be able to hide it, no matter how hard I try. People are gonna put the pieces together real quick and…” She extends a pinky, brushes it against Maria’s, and then takes it back, pulling her hands into her lap. “It may not be Armageddon, but it sure as hell won’t be pretty.”  
She’s not wrong.  
It’s Maria’s voice of reason, the one that emerges when some asswipe from the base makes a “housewife” comment or she gets the overwhelming urge to change the conversation when “suspicious men” would make itself a topic. Because, at this point, it’s not a matter of what she wants or who she loves but of life and death. There’s too much at stake, too much on the line for her, for either of them, to make a fuss over pesky little things like love. They knew that when they signed up, when they first looked at each other and realised they’d never felt so strong a pull as they did with each other.   
“Marie, you could have normal.” Her voice has lost its tenderness, growing more and more jagged as anger rears its head. “You could have a husband, a kid, a dog, white picket fence, stupid apple fucking pie, all of it.”  
And with Carol? With Carol, what would she have? Closed doors, hushed conversations, hidden hickies, and fear, just so, so much fear. What kind of a life is that? For her, for Carol, for the kid? It’s a life destined for disaster, and, for some reason, Maria’s determined to go careening down that road.   
Because what kind of a life would she have if didn’t? Fake smiles, tense homes, lost friendships? The Air Force is a fading object in Maria’s rearview mirror, and she hasn’t too many neighbors out here anyway. And if they tried-if they really, really tried-she thinks, maybe, just maybe, they could hide it.  
“I could only have normal if I was with you”, Maria eventually says. She holds Carol’s gaze, watching as tears begin to flood her eyes, and just stares, projecting more than she’s ever allowed herself to project. “I don’t want it without you.”  
“You would be miserable.”  
“I’m already miserable.”  
The tears spill over, and Carol doesn’t wipe them away. She angles her body so that she better faces her. But even here, she looks closed off, uncertain. Tentatively, she places her over Maria’s and leans in just close enough that, should anyone see, it could still be platonic. “If you ever want me to walk away-”  
“I won’t.” Maria leans in and does a quick dance with her fingers, tapping them against the palm of Carol’s hand.   
“I don’t know how to do this”, Carol whispers just as she stretches a little closer.  
“Me, neither.” Then she’s placing a hand underneath Carol’s chin and pulling her towards her.  
This time, when they pull away, they’re still together.   
And they stay that way.   
“I’m all yours”, Carol whispers, and Maria believes her.


End file.
